Ha' not you seen, Camillo?
(But that's past doubt; you have, or your eye-glass
Is thicker than a cuckold's horn) or heard,
(For to a vision so apparent, rumour
Cannot be mute) or thought (for cogitation
Resides not within man that does not think)
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt, confess,
Or else be impudently negative,
To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought.--
Here Leontes is confounded with his passion, and does not know which
way to turn himself, to give words to the anguish, rage, and
apprehension which tug at his breast. It is only as he is worked up
into a clearer conviction of his wrongs by insisting on the grounds
of his unjust suspicions to Camillo, who irritates him by his
opposition, that he bursts out into the following vehement strain of
bitter indignation: yet even here his passion staggers, and is as it
were oppressed with its own intensity.
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty!) horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? the noon, midnight? and all eyes
Blind with the pin and web, but theirs; theirs only,
That would, unseen, be wicked? is this nothing?
Why then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing,
The covering sky is nothing, Bohemia's nothing,
My wife is nothing!
The character of Hermione is as much distinguished by its saint-like
resignation and patient forbearance, as that of Paulina is by her
zealous and spirited remonstrances against the injustice done to the
queen, and by her devoted attachment to her misfortunes. Hermione's
restoration to her husband and her child, after her long separation
from them, is as affecting in itself as it is striking in the
representation. Camillo, and the old shepherd and his son, are
subordinate but not uninteresting instruments in the development of
the plot, and though last, not least, comes Autolycus, a very
pleasant, thriving rogue; and (what is the best feather in the cap
of all knavery) he escapes with impunity in the end.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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